Broken Heart Syndrome
by bravevulnerability
Summary: "Beckett still loves you." Castle pauses in his descent down Mia's hallway, glancing back to the woman with a battered nose courtesy of his elbow and a tentative smile on her face. "With a passion and you don't have to measure pheromones to sense that. There's something else, though." A twist on the ending of 8x05, The Nose.


"Beckett still loves you." Castle pauses in his descent down Mia's hallway, glancing back to the woman with a battered nose courtesy of his elbow and a tentative smile on her face. "With a passion and you don't have to measure pheromones to sense that." His heart warms at the words, the kindness in her eyes a new shade he had yet to see Mia wear, but there's something else, a lingering _but_ tugging down the corners of her lips. "There's something else, though."

Rick backtracks, unexpected dread swirling through his stomach. Mia may be able to smell different emotions, sniff out feelings and varying physical changes through the body, but he didn't need his nose to sense that Mia had bad news to share. Bad news that potentially involved his wife.

"What is it?"

"Aside from her… excitement to see you, there was an underlying scent Captain Beckett had been carrying," Mia hedges, picking at the envelope containing his mother's Broadway show tickets held between her fingers. "I caught it a few times and it's just a theory, but you seem to like those-"

"Mia," he prompts, his anxiety rocketing by the second, his heartbeat growing uncomfortably fast.

"Before I went into the perfume business, I tried working in the medical field," she explains hastily, the pink envelope trembling in her grasp now. "I thought I could be helpful and I was, until I just couldn't stand it anymore. The point is I learned how to catalogue symptoms by their smell and Captain Beckett…"

"What's wrong with her?" he demands, feeling the color drain from his face, his heart clenching in his chest.

"Don't jump to any conclusions yet," Mia warns, pursing her lips. "I just… I could smell sweat, more than a person produces on a daily basis, anytime she was near me, like there was a layer coating her skin. And beneath the kale-" Mia wrinkles her nose in disgust, but Rick doesn't have the time to ask what that's about. "I could smell vomit on her breath, as if she'd thrown up recently. And I noticed she took some aspirin, shied away from light-"

"What do you think she could have?"

"I'm not sure. I don't want to make any guesses," Mia tells him with a decisive shake of her head. "But I think she should go to a hospital and be checked out. She seems like she's been under a lot of stress and with the symptoms I noticed… it's just better to check it out."

Castle surges forward to embrace her once more, careful of her nose, but breathing out a rushed 'thank you' before turning around and jogging past the elevator in favor of racing down the stairs. The symptoms Mia pointed out aren't exactly fatal, they could relate to any form of disease or ailment ranging from minor to life threatening, but he had to be sure. He has nearly lost Kate in every way imaginable, and he will be damned if he loses her to an untreated medical issue.

* * *

Kate shoves the last of her clothing into the duffel bag she brought along, zipping it up with a jerky tug of her arm and taking a deep breath. Her eye catches on Castle's shirt a few feet away, slung over the head of the armchair, and her feet carry her towards the familiar fabric before she can even consider thinking better of it.

Her breathing has been a little off lately, shorter, as if her lungs were punishing her too, but it's stolen completely when she brings his shirt to her nose, inhales the warm, heady scent of their laundry detergent, his deodorant, and his soap lingering on the fabric. Tears sting the corners of her eyes, the usual pain in her chest flaring up into a physical ache.

Kate winces, lifting her palm to the middle of her chest and applying pressure, but the sudden burn in her chest fails to dull, spreading like flames instead, multiplying into wildfire and climbing along her ribs, slicking her collarbones and circling her throat.

"Beckett?" His voice echoes through the loft as she falls to her knees, his shirt clutched to her caving chest. "Kate? Are you here?"

Beckett sinks to the floor, her shoulder landing on the edge of the plush white rug framing their bed, the bone of her cheek bumping the hardwood of the floor as she tries to breath past the overwhelming tightness overtaking her upper body. The race of his shoes coming towards her fills her vision, the drop of his knee to the floor and the gentle cradle of his hand beneath her cheek claiming her attention for a brief moment, but she can't hear what he's saying past the galloping throb of her heart, the wheezing of her lungs and the whimpers slipping from her mouth that she hadn't even realized she was letting free.

The aching pressure radiates up to her jaw, wiring it shut, but she tries to grit his name past her teeth, hopes the graze of his thumb beneath one of her fluttering eyes means he's heard her.

"Hold on, Kate," she thinks she can make out. He's still talking after that, but not to her. "Just hold on, sweetheart. Please."

Oh, but that was for her. Richard Castle is the only man she would ever allow to call her names like that, sweet terms of endearment he whispers in her ear, against her heated cheeks. Why did she leave? Why would she ever leave this?

His shirt is still clutched to her chest, the smell of it drifting up to her nose, fighting past the rest of her body that is shutting down to slip through her nostrils, comfort her with the scent of him. Nothing else is working, her eyes unable to open (she couldn't even pinpoint when they had closed), her limbs dead weight and her body like stone, cold and heavy. But the scent of his shirt, the caress of his thumb along her cheekbone, it eases her into the darkness and all of the pain goes quiet.

* * *

He should have noticed the signs sooner, before Mia had to _smell_ them on her. Granted, he hasn't been allowed a lot of time with his wife these last few weeks, but he's a master when it comes to details, especially when it comes to Kate Beckett. He should have noticed sooner.

"Cassle." Rick jerks up in his seat beside her hospital bed at the slur of his name, his heart stumbling at the slow blink of her hazy eyes resting on him, and reaches for the water on the bedside table just in case. The medical team had not needed to do any form of surgery, but Kate had been under for a while, sleeping through the worst of it they had told him, recovering through slumber and the drip of the IV attached to her arm. "Happened?"

"I got to the loft and you were…" Castle swallows in time with her while she takes a small sip from the straw he places to her lips. "You were on the floor. I thought you were having a seizure. Your entire body went stiff and you - you passed out," he recounts, remembering the agonizing sight of her trembling on the floor of their bedroom, the gut wrenching noises leaving her lips before she blacked out on him, completely unresponsive.

"Rick," she whispers, extending her hand towards him, and Castle shifts onto the edge of her hospital bed, cradles her left hand in both of his and distracts himself with the band of her wedding ring.

"They thought it was a heart attack," he gets out, imagining her beautifully healed heart suffering another blow, the bullet wound only a prelude to a full fledged assault on the fragile muscle. "But once they were able to transport you from the loft, examine you properly, they determined it was stress cardiomyopathy."

"Broken heart syndrome," she mumbles, a tiny flicker of amusement attempting to form on her lips but withering under the strain. Her condition hadn't been life threatening – thank _God_ – but it could have been. The muscle of her heart had become weak, her breathing had become shortened while her chest had undergone immense physical trauma that had sent her to the ground, unable to get back up.

She would recover and suffer no permanent damage. "A quick and complete healing process," her doctor had informed him with an encouraging smile, but the picture of her paralyzed and in pain so severe that her body had to shut down fails to leave him, fails to ease his own fractured heart.

"Castle," she calls softly, her fingers curling within the cradle of his. "C'mere."

He should say no. He should call her nurse, inform the attending physicians that she's awake and they should probably check her over to ensure that she's truly okay, that there's no risk of her heart failing her, going into cardiac arrest, taking her away from him in a way that he won't survive.

"Rick, baby." He hates when she calls him that, hates how it causes his heart to flutter for her. "Please."

He should press the call button, but his wife is in a hospital bed, a loose gown draped over the bones of her shoulders, a wire snaking out from the inside of her arm, and he had thought he had lost her again. Castle sways forward until he can coil his arms around her, cradling her body, the back of her head in his palm, and kissing the corner of her eye while her unrestrained arm bands around his back, her hand fisting in his shirt.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he chokes out, inhaling a deep breath and relishing in the scent of her skin, the warmth of her flesh against his. "I'm so - I thought-"

Beckett turns her head until she can find his mouth, kissing him soundly and eradicating his fears with the stroke of her tongue. He gentles her after a single moment, too afraid to hear her short of breath once more, and wipes away the sudden tear streaking down her cheek.

"I love you," she whispers, catching his hand and pressing her cheek into his palm, looking so very heartbroken despite the positive feedback her doctor had given him.

"Captain Beckett," the greeting of her doctor's voice floats in through the doorway and Castle sits back, only far enough to ensure he's out of the way. He doesn't move from the hospital bed, from her side, and he doesn't believe she would allow him to anyway. Not if the firm grip of her hand and the twine of her fingers through his is any indication. "Good to see you awake. Now, let's discuss the state of your heart."

* * *

"I'm sorry," Beckett sighs once Doctor Johnson has left them, the explanation of her sudden but temporary condition still swirling through her brain.

The minor attack on her heart had been stress induced, Johnson had informed her, and could be common among those enduring trying times fueled by varying emotional stressors. 'Broken Heart Syndrome', Johnson had confirmed the substitute title with a wink that had caused her husband's frown to deepen. The diagnosis had fit, hadn't even surprised her if she took it all into consideration.

In the last month, Kate had been under more stress than ever before between her job as Captain of the Twelfth, her investigation into LockSat, and the strain she had put on her marriage. She had a broken heart, there was no denying that, but she had been the one to break it and apparently, this was the price she had to pay.

"For what?" Castle inquires, tilting his head at her in concern and she tugs gently on his hand, wills him back into her space so she can touch him, reacquaint herself with the proximity she's been missing far too greatly.

"So much," she murmurs, her hand rising to curve along the side of his neck, over the steady throb of his pulse. "But especially for this, for making you walk in on me going unconscious on the floor of our bedroom. I can't imagine how terrifying that must have-"

"Don't you dare apologize for that," he growls at her, covering the hand on his neck and fitting his fingers into the spaces between hers. "I'm _glad_ I found you when I did, Kate. You could have been alone and then - then what? Who would have - you don't even-"

"Can I come home?" she asks before her throat can clog with more tears, blinking against the sea of them raging behind her eyes. "I don't want to do this anymore, Castle. I just want to come home, just want you back."

He's so careful with her, so delicate and gentle, but he still manages to haul her into his chest in the cramped hospital bed, holding her against the broad wall of his body and smearing his lips to her forehead. She'll have to tell him soon, explain the reasons behind her actions, behind the pain she caused them both, and reassure him that _he_ was never one of those reasons. But her husband still wants her, still loves her despite the torturous last few weeks, and it gives her hope, restores her faith that she can fix this.

"You never lost me," he swears to her, soothing her with the flutter of his lips at her forehead. "And of course you can come home," he chuckles, a weak, watery sound that threatens to crack her vulnerable heart all over again. "I was making you come home with me anyway, Beckett. Doctor's orders."

A breathless laugh escapes her, muffled against his throat, and even now, her chest already feels lighter, less burdened as breathing comes easier.

"Oh, and I brought you this just in case we had to stay overnight," Castle adds, dropping one of his arms from around her to reach down, retrieve something from what appears to be a hastily packed bag on the floor. "You were holding it when I found you."

Her lips spill into a rueful grin as he hands her his shirt, smirking at her when she accepts the article of clothing. "Yeah, well, it smelled like you."

"Considering our most recent case, I find that perfectly appropriate."

Kate rolls her eyes and lists into his loose embrace, exhales evenly and inhales the comforting scent of him, more prominent and wrapped around her better than any piece of fabric ever could. "Mm, but I definitely prefer the real thing."


End file.
